Near the grotto at the foot of the hill,

in the midst of the ancient oak wood,

the temple stands...

And there, close beside it, crouches our tranquil village.

The river gushing from the grotto sings to it in the morning,

and the waves of the nearby shore rock it

to sleep in the evening.

But at night... the gods go roaming.

And the virgins of Phoenicia scatter over the hills,

in circles, around the blazing fires, keening

for Tammuz.

The red flame drapes them in enchantment, and the sweet

smell of incense steeps the air in love

and reverence...

And Astarte moves among the throng of wailing

dancers, cloaked in sorrow and tears...

Then before long she enters the wood, to

the temple, to be alone with herself,

and weep for the god she worshipped, the god who

died before she could win from him a kiss.

•

This is what tongues passed from mouth to mouth in our village,

and this is what my grandmother would tell me

around the hearth on winter days.

Indeed, she would add:

"And ever since that time, my little one,

whoever enters the temple by night and pours

drops of his blood upon the altar... is granted

his heart's desire... but... he risks bearing

Astarte's curse forever... above all

lovers."

•

And so I lived my childhood in a world

far away... far away from this world of ours.

My companion was a boy lovelier than the dewy

meadow flower and sweeter than the calm ray of morning,

and we passed the days together.

At the mouth of the grotto and along the banks of the river

down to where it empties on the shore,

in the darkness of the many sarcophagi scattered

around the village... and among the statues,

beneath the shadows of the ancient oak wood,

and inside the temple, on the stones of the altar.

•

Then came the season of youth...

and my companion grew to manhood.

And yet

I went on living with him... and working with him,

and walking at his side in my comings and my goings,

as the sweetest of faithful friends can be.

I loved the companion of my cradle, the confidant of my girlhood,

and I gave him the place of my heart's inmost core

and the black of my eye.

•

And in May...

on one of those nights... the moon at its full,

its rays breaking on the leaves of the branches

and glittering like a road of glory over the face

of the still deep,

at midnight...

I found myself walking alone, with firm,

bold steps...

to the temple...

I violated the sanctity of the darkness in the wood...

and went treading the gold coins of light scattered

on its floor... and came at last to the temple.

There before the altar I knelt in supplication,

the sweat streaming from my body and the tears

from my eyes,

and I waited for an answer.

But who would answer?

And yet... my grandmother had said there must

be an answer.

I drew my dress from my breast and began

to wound it with a two-edged blade...

and my heart's blood flowed hot, washing the stone

of the altar before me.

My tears poured down in floods upon

my cheeks... and I heard a consoling voice say:

What do you seek, woman?

I answered: I have a man whom I carry as blood in my heart

and as light in my eyes; I have brought him to you that you may grant him

the most exalted of blessings.

He said: And what are the most exalted blessings

you ask for your young man?

I said: O you of vast perception, O you rich

in understanding and knowledge, you know best what is good for man,

and what petitions stir in the depths of my soul —

grant him the best of them, the best of them, O giver of bounties.

And the voice replied:

Very well. Your prayer has been heard, and

your heart's desire shall be given... Go in peace.

And so I put